I'm In Control, I Have To Be
by MissingMoriarty
Summary: Everyone has a weakness, and Mycroft manages his. Until one day, he can't. Omegaverse. Mystrade. Johnlock in later chapters.


I'm In Control, I Have To Be

Chapter One

**A/N: My first published fanfiction for the Sherlock fandom. BBC Sherlock and its characters are not mine. **

He was at a crime scene, intent on speaking to Sherlock, when he felt it happened. The sudden pain in his head and the wave of dizziness. Wincing, Mycroft Holmes automatically stood still and breathed deeply through his nose, fighting the growing feeling of weakness swamping his body. It passed and he blinked, slightly shaken by the unexpected occurrence.

Good Heavens, he had not had a reaction to a heat like that in years! Indeed, except for a carefully controlled period of time in a safe location thrice annually, Mycroft didn't get heats at all. Why would he? After all he had never connected with a mate and with his job and busy schedule he just didn't have time for them. Of course his internal body clock still wanted the monthly heat cycle but Mycroft had vetoed those from starting, easily enough with regular high quality suppressants. He had taken his suppressant only this morning...  
He moved his head gently then froze as a glare of light blinded him then faded.  
Yes, photosensitive, he might be in trouble

Mycroft calculated rapidly, yes it would be time for his natural heat to begin. Mycroft again felt strangely weak and cold. Rats! It was definitely a heat sentence. He only ever lost power like this when his naturally submissive side awoke. How utterly ridiculous! Mycroft felt a wave of fury at his body trying to betray him like this! Damn It! Out in public too...out in...oh dear.

He stood utterly still and looking with new caution at the milling crowd of police officers, medical people, scientists, hurrying about the crime scene. None a danger for the British Government but for an unbonded submissive about to enter an unexpected heat, the situation was very different. Alarm bells started ringing as Mycroft subconsciously began noting the many strange alpha scents mingling in the air. Plenty, at least ten, maybe more in fairly close proximity; they were all distracted currently. _Urgh, _Mycroft shuddered as the smell hit him and his stomach twisted in distaste against the main reason he had never bonded. The plain fact that nearly all alpha scent made him want to retch. He had developed the malady early upon approaching maturity and naturally had been taken to all leading doctors on the subject, a strong allergy to some clan musks suspected. Not an unusual problem, indeed many clans took pride in being unable to mate with their enemies. None was found indeed after several weeks of painful and often humiliating exams and talks the general consensus was that the only problem was Mycroft himself.

There was no problem other than Mycroft's own reluctance to bond to any Alpha he considered inferior to himself, particularly his own intellect. In short Mycroft was too vain. No real surprise there. Mummy had not been happy with him at all. Mycroft frowned at the memory of one of only times he had not been able to earn her praise, he had of course tried and for along time had held hopes that somewhere with the circles of influence and power he moved in an Alpha would stand out and he would be able to enter a bondship, but it never occurred and eventually Mummy had stopped asking. The subject was never mentioned but Mycroft understood all to well how much he had failed. Firstly by being a submissive, secondly by being unbondable.

These days he clamped down his submissive itches with a iron clad self control and never thought about the fact he was unbonded. It had been too long now anyway, he was far too old to be considered an attractive mate.

The smells were getting stronger and that meant his own scent would quickly become more noticeable. He would have to leave. Holding his handkerchief to his nose, Mycroft turned back towards where he had left the car with Anthea inside and stopped in dismay. How had he walked so far away from it? When had so many people appeared? He swallowed, knowing that the risks of attempting to walk past so many Alphas without them scenting him and he drawing all sort of embarrassment being violently ill, was vast.

Anxiously, damn his body, he looked back in the other direction and sighed in relief. There, just a few meters away, was Sherlock gesturing wildly while talking to to his flatmate John Watson. Mycroft stepped forward hurriedly then stopped with a whimper as his head screamed in pain and lights flashed. Gasping, he edged forward his eyes, slits, focused on his brother. Why was it so damn cold? Christ, his head hurt, he needed to lay down. Thanks heavens Sherlock was close. He edged gingerly towards him, trying not to groan under the sharp shooting pain in his head. Then the unthinkable occurred. Before Mycroft's shocked gaze, the Consulting Detective made one last sweeping gesture and began striding away at rapid speed, John Watson trailing him doggedly.

Mycroft gave a moan of horror. No, no Sherlock. No. He couldn't be leaving, he couldn't. He needed him to help him! _Urgh. _Oh God, his head,, it wouldn't be long before he lost control to his submissive side completely. Then Mycroft would be in real trouble, completely at the mercy of his weakness. Mycroft opened his mouth but a wave of nausea came and he clamped it shut. Eyes wide he watched Sherlock going and knew there was only one choice. God damn Sherlock for making him do this, damn him for not noticing. For forcing Mycroft's hand. Jaw clenched, and burning with self loathing, Mycroft did the thing he always swore he would never do. Eyes shut, he whined.

The tiny noise was almost soundless on the air, lost to all the others. Ahead of him Sherlock went rigid and Dr Watson crashed into the back of him only to brushed roughly aside as Sherlock sniffed the air urgently, spun and came swiftly back. His bright eyes locked instantly on Mycroft. He took only seconds to reach him but to Mycroft it was age. Then he was there standing over him and Mycroft felt instant comfort and protection break over him. He looked up resentfully into the burning blue eyes of his clan's last remaining Alpha.

"What on earth, Mycroft. Have you gone senile in your old age?" The deep voice asked curtly, his nose twitched, causing Sherlock to give a grimace of realisation at the situation.

"Fuck you, Sherlock," hissed Mycroft bitterly.

"Well it's the lack of that causing your current predicament isn't it brother? You should have mated years ago. Then you wouldn't need to be asking my protection as you break down publicly," Sherlock's voice was flat and he looked at Mycroft, not bothering to conceal the clear amusement,  
"What happened? forget your tablet?"

"I took it," growled Mycroft, wondering if he had enough strength left to strangle the bastard. Why?! Why must it be Sherlock he had to grovel to? Arrogant prick, he would never let Mycroft forget this humiliation. But of course Sherlock's scent didn't repel him; no, Sherlock smelt like family. Protection.  
"Just get me out of here...please!" He ordered hating how needy his voice sounded.

"Sherlock, what the hell was that? You knocked me right over! When are you going to start acting like a decent human bei...oh..hello Mycroft what's...okay, hold on give me your hand it's fine..."  
John Watson rushed up grumbling bitterly only for the doctor in him to instantly recognise Mycroft's dilemma. In seconds the irate man had morphed into the cool army medical professional of multiple tours of duty. Feeling his firm steady hand grasp his, Mycroft, again blessed what ever angel of mercy that had seen fit to place Dr John Watson in their lives. The fact that John was also an omega and didn't smell bad also good.

John examined him swiftly and frowned, concern evident  
"Gee Mycroft, you're very shaky is this your first heat in a while? They get rough if you haven't had one in a while."

"A while..." Whispered Mycroft and under John's steady eyes admitted, "Nine months."

John, with military training, hid his shock but Sherlock cursed and ran his hand through his dark curls.

"Can you halt it at all? Sherlock questioned.

John shook his head, "Now it's started it's better for him to have it run its course," he steadied Mycroft as he swayed suddenly and began to retch.

"Please...the smell," Mycroft managed.

"Time to leave," declared Sherlock, taking Mycroft by the arm only to freeze and survey the crowded area. The street in both directions was blocked by either police cars or ambulances. Alphas were everywhere and not even Sherlock could risk taking a heat stuck unbonded sub through them.

John, also looking around, had reached the same conclusion. He looked at Sherlock worriedly. Sherlock thought.

"Quick, over to the left. That alley way," he said and between them Sherlock and John took the shaking Mycroft by the elbows and towed him into the dark corridor. There he collapsed onto the wall for once not caring about the general filth coating the surface.

"So what now?" Asked John urgently, taking Mycroft's racing pulse.

Mycroft felt dizzy.

"I am working on a plan...I need to create a diversion" and Sherlock slipped away.

"Anthea...in car...waiting," mumbled Mycroft, wishing desperately for some mercy to happen and he be transported to a quiet place to die of shame.

"John, go and tell her code 2."

"No, Mycroft, I can't leave-"

"Please John it's important...my job."

Perhaps it was the look in Mycroft eyes. John nodded  
"Right. Don't move, I will be right back," he warned and hurried away.

Mycroft watched him go and felt another shiver course throughout his body. Cold and dark and smelly. He couldn't remember feeling worse. The thought that the future included at least two days of being sick in a lonely room until his heat passed, fully came and only made it slightly worse.

Having coldness and headaches severe as they were as his major affliction during his submissive rise was, Mycroft knew, fairly minor compared to what some submissives endured regularly. Imagine needing sexual relations! How utterly embarrassing and vulgar. Mycroft was grateful he didn't have that to deal with. Oh, he would be naturally more affectionate and willing during a heat (but only to any Alpha he could stand to smell) but the actual physical need which some so badly got, was absent.

Mycroft sighed in misery, then froze in terror as a person came into the alley. The scent of Alpha filled the air.

Instantly he ducked down, close to the wall trying not to be seen. He was very vulnerable now...if this person wanted to harm him he would have very little chance of escape. Sherlock and John might not reach him in time...he would be assaulted...hurt...taken.

Body frozen, he watched the figure as it came hastily up the alley, mumbling to itself, casting fugitive looks around. Mycroft blinked as they calmly lit up a cigarette and began to smoke.  
Smoke. Oh dear, he was only smoking. He hadn't charged up the alley to attack Mycroft at all. Mycroft sighed with sheer relief then froze as the noise caused the Alpha's head to snap swiftly around a look straight at him.

It was as he stared up into the wide brown eyes that Mycroft realised who it was. Altogether the silver hair probably should have alerted him, already if not for his stupid mind collapsing around him.

Detective Inspector Lestrade from Scotland Yard. Sherlock's main ally in finding the cases he so desperately needed to have lest he destroy London due to a boredom sparked tantrum. Mycroft knew the man rather well, despite only briefly meeting him in his usual kidnap-and-inspect-personally-any-new-person-entering-Sherlock's-life mantra. He had liked the DI for not showing any fear other than a general 'this man with some powerful position is clearly able to the crush my career' unease. But he had not acted to curry favour or please Mycroft, instead he listened to Mycroft's offer/bribery and then politely answered by repeating Without Reason and Reward the motto of police. Clearly he was not going to be bribed. A brief discussion made his position unwavering. Indeed, he bluntly told Mycroft to look after his brother himself.

Odd that, how he had known...nobody else ever twigged the relationship so quickly, not even John Watson. Afterwards looking back, Mycroft had considered he respected the officer more for his stance, but at the time it had been his first flat refusal in gaining a source of information on Sherlock in over fours years. Angry and frustrated at himself he had resorted to vague threats like some shady gangster before evicting Lestrade out of the car and driving away.

The memory still smarted slightly with Sherlock's later admission that Lestrade told him he had been scared by the being the merest way of a balm. The next time they met by chance in the entry of Scotland Yard it was worse, as Lestrade recognised him and gave him a wry smile as he passed, the suspicious considering of which had caused the older Holmes to suffer a horrible flutter in his chest later that night ...a heart attack! The resulting midnight trip with Anthea to his private doctors was proved both unnecessary and embarrassing.

Mycroft would be lying if he pretended that he had made sure that his and the Detective Inspector's paths did not cross since that day. No mean feat really considering life seemed to regularly necessitate their mutual involvement in Sherlock's life, but Mycroft couldn't stand the thought of yet again being studied by those chocolate brown eyes.

Lestrade had looked at him with respect tinged caution, yet a certain amusement. Like he Mycroft Holmes, most powerful man in Britain/possibly the world was funny! Mycroft had never felt such humiliation. He, with great control, stopped himself from getting Lestrade exported out the country and banished all thoughts of the man from his head. He naturally was on surveillance, a shade less than Sherlock...just because Mycroft was careful.

And here he was now yet again about to lose face before the dratted man.

**A/N: Thanks for reading, and please leave a review. **

**This has been beta-read by ao3 user Too _ Fargone.**


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